In the Echinacea

A Cardinal, spying from the pow’r lines by my kitchen window, acts tempestuously

As if he cannot resist me

Truth be told, I’m fond of him, too

Remarkable as he is — less a vivid red than most, and volume missing in the tufts of his shaggy cone

I know the migration he’s been through, and he needs that

Unafraid to ask, I say, “What is it you want?”

His response…be still, my heart!

I won’t betray his confidence, but we see eye-to-eye

It’s the reason he finds himself landing in my backyard peach tree at every possible opportunity

Poking around in the Echinacea, for calm

Glad I give him refuge, I leave open the door

Talking with him like this, leaves me wanting more

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